


I Don't Want You to Go

by xXxdanknoscoperxXx



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5609836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxdanknoscoperxXx/pseuds/xXxdanknoscoperxXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something I wrote several years ago and recently found on my harddrive.</p><p>A guy tells his best friend he's getting married. Best friend, who's had the hots for him since forever, doesn't take it too well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Want You to Go

“Thanks for coming by,” he smiled warmly at the door, which was opened as wide as it could possibly go, welcoming in the one who stood before him, outside in the heavy, pouring rain.

“No problem. We’ve known each other forever, John,” the other one spoke out in response, clearly glad to be there, as a huge grin was spread across his face, seeming almost as though it were from ear to ear. He appeared un-phased by the harsh downpour around him, which splattered hard against concrete and plopped heavily down onto his jacket, staining it with dark, wet splotches.

John studied his friend for a bit, the smile still on his face, his eyes lit up contentedly, before he stepped off to one side and motioned with one hand for him to come in.

“Seems like forever since we were in the same room…” The friend looked around John’s home, and realized that not much had actually changed. Only a different color of paint that coated the walls and some new curtains that hung limply in front of the room’s windows.

John waited until he had finished closing the door, locking all of the noise of thunder and rain outside, where it could hardly be heard from the warm security of his home. It made both of them feel a little better, to be able to have peace and quiet in order to talk to one another and catch up on things that had passed since the two-month-long gap they had spent in separation.

“So what’s happened with you, Will?” John asked him after his old friend had finished removing his shoes and jacket, both heavily dampened with moisture and showing absolutely no signs of drying any time soon.

Will joined his friend John on the large, comfortable-looking couch in the spacious living room, surprised that his job was allowing him to earn enough money to buy a house this soon. He was so young; he should have been living in an apartment like everyone else in his age group, not this nice house all by himself. It seemed as though such a young, happy-go-lucky man wasn’t really ‘fit’ for such a lavish mode of living, even if he did have the money and the means to afford it.

William took a rather long time getting himself settled down onto the soft, leathery cushions of John’s living room couch. He looked around the room quietly once more, trying to take in as much of the familiar sights as he could before even opening his mouth to answer his friend’s question.

“Nothing much, really. I’ve just been promoted at work, but that’s it...” he said, his voice happy yet somehow nervous at the same time, perhaps because he did not think it an interesting enough topic with which to occupy their time for more than a second or two. Whenever William and Jonathan saw each other, they would spend much time searching for a topic that they could discuss seemingly without end. Neither of them quite knew exactly why, but perhaps both of them simply enjoyed the sound of the other’s voice… At least Will knew he did.

He could sit for hours upon hours listening to John’s voice. It was thick, yet not too deep, and very smooth. It reminded him of melted chocolate or of freshly brewed coffee. When they were living together in the same dorm during their college years, it was the same voice that would resound in Will’s ears like a mother’s lovely lullaby, easing him off into sleep even in the middle of a discussion, and it was the same voice that offered him reassurance, friendship, care and security. He was unbelievably elated, so much so that he felt his insides quiver from excitement, to be able to hear that voice again.

John chuckled slightly at the answer his friend had given him, that warm smile radiating across the room like the sun of the morning sky before the rays settled onto the other man’s hungry eyes. 

God, he was so amazing… And those eyes of his… They were such a lovely shade of forest green, like the kind you could see on fresh, bright pine needles. They were certainly much more beautiful than Will’s own; a harsh dark brown, which closely resembled mud after a long, agonizing, storm which had lasted through the whole night and kept children awake, crying and begging for the comfort and love of their parents to get them through. It sometimes made William ashamed to think of how much less desirable than John he was. It made him wonder just how he had even managed to become such close friends with someone so magnificent in the first place.

Will could still remember the first day they had met one another, and could practically repeat the exact conversation that they had verbatim, not that it was difficult at all to remember. And he could still picture John smiling warmly, just the way he was doing right now. It made Will feel all fuzzy to look at those thin lips formed into one, and it made his head spin around and around, his mud brown eyes forming a layer of cloudy mist, making it so that he could see Jonathan, and no one and nothing except for Jonathan. It even made him feel crazy sometimes to feel something so strange and foreign for his friend from college.

As William looked back up from that spot of polished wood upon which his eyes were settled, in order to fix those eyes on Jonathan’s fair face. He was smiling, but not in his friend’s direction. It was aimed toward the ground, those kind eyes containing a small hint of a warm smile in them as well. 

“You remember Emma, right?” he finally spoke, his gaze still fixed on the floor, as though he were trying to see something within it, as though he was looking for something that was huddled and secure underneath the floorboards.

“Yeah?” William replied. He had an idea of where John was trying to lead him with his question, but didn’t think about it too much, perhaps because he was too distracted by that face of his, or maybe that he didn’t want to pursue those thoughts, afraid that they would only upset him. It was probably both, though Will failed to acknowledge it. “What about her?”

Emma and John had started dating one another just about a year ago, but Will knew that it couldn’t last. The two of them periodically broke into arguments in which one or both of them would get violent with one another, often leaving bruises or scrapes, about which the other one would have to lie and cover around others. But Will knew. He had been there and heard the yelling, the violence and the pure anger.

The two of them would also go through periods of time in which they refused to speak to one another or even acknowledge the other’s presence, but, soon enough, all of those feelings would fade away and they would get back together and return to being a normal couple, or as normal as they could possibly be. It was all a huge failure just waiting ever-so-patiently to happen.

John looked up from the floor, facing Will with a broad grin spread across his face as though he were a little boy who’d just been given the biggest lollipop or stuffed bear he’d ever seen.

“We’re getting married.”

For a minute, William sat on the couch without moving a single muscle, absolutely dumbfounded. What was that? He was sure that he had heard wrong. There was no way a man like John would ever actually marry a dumb bimbo with a raging temper and lust for anything and everything material like Emma.

“E-Eh…” Will smiled, albeit nervously, and it definitely showed. His nervous laughter was an obvious sign of discomfort. “What was that?”

But John either didn’t notice his friend’s behavior, or he didn’t care, too lost in his own thoughts, probably. “I’m marrying Emma, Will!” he declared once more, happily. “The wedding is going to be in March.” His voice had a sort of soft hum to it, almost sing-song in its tone, and who could blame him? He felt so dizzy with love that he just wanted to scream it out to the whole world.

But Will could hardly even believe his own ears. It came so suddenly, like a boulder toppling and crushing down onto him. It hurt. It hurt so much. He could feel his chest tightening up and squeezing him from the inside, threatening to pop his heart right then and there, but he still had to fight back the urge to cry. He had to. He had to.

“S-So… How, h-how long ago did you d-did this happen?” his voice was shaky, and it was so hard straining himself and holding back the huge wall of tears that was slowly building up inside of him, threatening to overflow at any second. Normally, he figured people would have dealt with that phrase with more skepticism, but he knew John well enough to know that he had no reason to doubt his words. He had always been honest, never a fan of sarcasm, or joking, either. And that thought only served to somehow make Will even more upset than he already was.

“I proposed to her last week, at her favorite restaurant. You’re the first person I’ve told.” He looked up at the ceiling and smiled again. “You should have seen the look on her face. It looked like she’d just won the lottery. And when she said yes…” He trailed off, bringing his gaze back down to the floor, staring at it as though he could see Emma’s face in the polish staring right back at him.

No matter how much he liked John, Will absolutely could not bring himself to be happy for his friend. Such a task seemed absolutely impossible for him. Instead he felt heartbroken, betrayed, like the worst piece of filth that had ever come to exist, wasting all this time going after something he knew he couldn’t have. And what hurt the most was that William had never seen Jonathan so content and pleased and happy before. It made Will feel absolutely awful and worthless to think of it.

“You know…” John continued, still keeping his gaze on the floor, staring into the beautiful eyes of his fiancée which he believed to be there before him. “I’m so happy… That I actually managed to find someone.” A smile crept across his face, a blissful one this time, as he continued, “I was so scared it wouldn’t work out, but I love her. I love her so much I can hardly even stand it.”

But Will couldn’t help it. He didn’t want this to happen. He wanted John to spend the rest of his life with him, not some dumb slut!

“No,” he said, somewhat unsteadily, the tears now spilling over and onto his cheeks, staining them with sadness. He didn’t want it to turn out this way, not at all. And the thought of never having John to himself made him feel utterly hopeless and lost and disgustingly sad.

“Huh?” Jonathan looked back up from the floor and over at Will, like he couldn’t believe someone he had trusted so much could possibly say that to something about which he was so happy. Were those… Tears? John had never seen Will cry; never. So why now? Why was he crying now, after he had learned that his best friend was going to live his life with someone else and be happy?

“No.” Will repeated the word, more firmly this time, as though he could keep denying it and denying it until John came to his senses and broke off the wedding with that skank. He didn’t want it to be true, but he knew that it was, and, for some odd reason, he felt that denying it repeatedly would help his situation be alleviated, at least by a tiny little bit.

John only stared back at him.

“Will…? I’m marrying the woman I love, and I know that I won’t really be able to see you as often, but I’ll make an effort. Please, I just want you to—“

“No!” Will barked, the tears flowing down his cheeks like little streams of sorrow, refusing to stop or slow down.

“Listen, Will!” John’s voice suddenly more stern, and it was becoming more apparent that he felt he knew why Will was acting so strangely, and he would have none of it. “I’m going to marry Emma and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. I thought you would be happy to know that I was getting married, but I guess you’re still stuck in fucking college!”

Will was completely silent.

“I’m growing up, and I wish you would too. People move on, Will, and you have to, as well. Be happy for me! Your best friend is getting married!” 

He was obviously angry, but he wasn’t nearly as livid as Will had expected him to be. Perhaps it was at the prospect of losing one of the best friends he’d ever had over something he thought would bring them a bit closer.

Will could see in his face that John was upset, upset with him. Why was he so upset with him but so in love with someone so awful? But there was something else behind those eyes of his besides just anger. Sadness, it looked like, and some kind of bitter loneliness beginning to creep slowly over them.

But Will didn’t notice it. Or maybe he did, but his own feelings were drowning out those of his friend’s, the messages that John was trying to send him. He wanted Will to understand that he wanted to continue to be friends for a very, very long time and that he wasn’t leaving him forever. He wouldn’t have married Emma if that meant that he could no longer be around Will.

Will was the best friend John had ever had, and they both knew it.

But William couldn’t help it. He could no longer hold back his pure anger and rage. Jonathan was his and his alone. He wouldn’t let anyone else have him, especially not that whore, Emma.

“NO!” he yelled out, so loudly that it seemed as though the very room might shake from the sheer volume of his voice, and John was temporarily frozen in place, staring back at Will like someone who’d just witnessed a murder.

Will sprung forward, John couldn’t react in time to fight off the man as he was violently pounced on, sending them both toppling from the couch to the floor and causing him to groan out slightly in pain and surprise. Although he didn’t register what was happening at the moment, he knew it would leave him some painful bruises the next day.

Finally, Jonathan realized that Will was lying on top of him, holding him down with his own weight. “Get off of me, Will!” He didn’t know exactly why, but he felt a bit panicked, even knowing that nothing bad was going to happen to him. Will would never even hurt a fly, John knew that, but being in this sort of position was a bit distressing for him, and he wanted out of it. John hoped to get that point across by fighting against the weight which lay on him, attempting to push Will off with his two lean arms.

But Will didn’t come to his senses. He didn’t realize that what he was doing was terribly wrong and that he should stop right now; he was simply overcome with anger. And in this fit of rage, he refused to stop, and was going to continue until he got exactly what he wanted from the other. 

John’s pushing did virtually nothing to help himself, and Will took that chance to grab both of Jonathan’s arms at the wrists with two powerful hands, pushing them down to the ground and holding them in place as firmly as he possibly could, managing to keep the other one down despite his relentless struggling.

As he looked at the man’s distressed, frustrated face, and knew that the man to whom it belonged was his, he was his, he was his, he was his, and Will was willing to do anything to prove it. 

He leaned his face forward, putting lonely, desperate lips on the other’s, pushing down on them with bruising force. John was his; Will could do anything he wanted to something that was his. He needed to show John exactly where he belonged, and this was the only way he knew of to do it.

The sound of John’s panic was very apparent, he struggled even more harshly than before, and the sound of muffled yelling from beyond his pale lips showed just how painfully obviously John didn’t want this, Will’s hands still held his firmly to the floor, unwilling to give even an inch to his protests and instead restricting him and making him more vulnerable and more helpless.

What the fuck was he doing?! John couldn’t fight back against him no matter how hard he tried, and that frustrated him. Even though his mind was fuzzed with frustration and now some awful, gut-wrenching feeling that something terrible was about to happen to him, and now all he could do was hope and pray in the very far back recesses of his mind that Will wasn’t going where John thought that he was going, even though, now, he was seriously beginning to panic.

He could tell already that struggling, even with as much power as he could muster, was not going to help him in the slightest. But he couldn’t help but try his very hardest to fight him off, even if he knew full well that it was futile. 

Will broke off the contact with John’s lips only after he had made sure to bite and bruise them plenty, leaving obvious signs that his mouth had been violated by someone else, probably stronger than he. Although Will was not able to form a proper, rational thought at the moment, he knew that he wanted those bites and areas where John had bled to turn into scars, marking him as someone else’s property for the rest of his life. Emma wouldn’t want him after she’d seen that he already belonged to someone else.

As soon as William did so, however, he found that Jonathan clearly could not keep his pretty little trap shut, even though he did such a good job of it just now, struggling to the best of his ability to keep Will’s tongue out of his mouth.  
“Get off of me! Get off of me! Get the fuck off of me now!” He struggled to force out, his lips sore and sensitive, refusing to bend to his words as completely as he had hoped as they left his tongue in some sort of slurred mess of anger and frustration and panic, scrambling as quickly as they could to leave.

William didn’t hear him. English was now completely foreign and unfamiliar to him. He wasn’t the William with whom John had become such honest friends. He was nothing more than a savage beast, driven only by desire and rage, determined to prove that he was stronger, that he was more powerful, that John was completely and utterly helpless when he was up against him.

After staring harshly into John’s eyes, more trying to intimidate and frighten him rather than simply examining those instruments for sight, and staring long and hard enough for the other, who had originally stared back at him with an equal amount of malice, to look away from intimidation, Will moved on to the next part of his torture.

He had to remove a hand from one of Jonathan’s wrists in order to be able to grab at the man’s belt buckle, unfortunately freeing him up in the process. To his pleasure, he was able to somehow loosen it with only one hand before the other man was able to react and stop him.   
Desperate to stop this nightmare from continuing and escalating any further than it had already gone, and after realizing what was now being done to him, John grabbed at the hand which was dangerously close. He attempted to pull it away from him as he realized that now it was heading for the zipper of his pants. He knew exactly what was going to happen to him now, and he could feel a wave of hopelessness and inferiority wash over him, shrouding his senses temporarily, although he didn’t cease the strong grip with which he held William’s powerful arm.

It was so odd to think that Jonathan had usually been the more powerful one in terms of strength; though only by a small amount. Now, by some reason unknown, William had seemingly doubled in strength. And it made John feel so, so hopeless to think about how he was now being overpowered by another man.

But that hand did absolutely nothing to stop Will from getting what he wanted. Will managed to pull his own hand away from John’s grasp, taking the chance to grab at his wrist once more. 

Will stared at John’s expression as he twisted the arm around by the wrist, watching that pretty little face contort into pain and the attempt to resist it. His eyes were shut tightly now, as though squeezing them closed was going to distract him from the pain which William was inflicting.

Apparently not, as only a few seconds into twisting the limb, Will got what he was looking for. Even amidst all of the other man’s struggling and kicking about, s satisfying snap was perfectly audible, and how William did enjoy it. Especially the helpless cry of pain that followed afterward, John’s lips separating almost automatically, the man seemingly unable to hold back on releasing his distress to the world and showing his weakness.

Of course, that scream was abnormally exciting for Will to hear, and he only wanted more of it. He wanted John to show just how far beneath and just how weak compared to William and just how dependent on him that he was. 

And, with that, down went the pants and underwear, along with most of John’s dignity, leaving his lower half completely exposed. He wanted to die right then and there. But he couldn’t do anything about his position. He couldn’t fight back, he couldn’t escape, and he couldn’t even protect himself. 

John was convinced that he was a failed man.

But even in that moment of pure power, Will didn’t dare touch John. At least not yet, even though it looked so cute and wonderful and ready to prove John’s love and loyalty to him and him only.

Instead, William began to pull up the man’s shirt, trying to get him completely in the nude before continuing with his task. He wanted to see John in his entirety, and to be able to control him completely. 

“Stop! Stop!” Jonathan still managed to cry out, even though he knew that doing so was positively worthless. He grabbed hopelessly at one of Will’s hands, but to absolutely no avail. Nothing would stop him. Nothing. He should have been grateful that William didn’t break his other arm as well for such persistent defiance.

“Shut the fuck up.” Will’s first words since he had begun to attack at the other, and they came down like hail the size of boulders, reminding John that it was all useless.

“This is all your fucking fault,” he continued, managing to remove the shirt from the man’s torso completely, despite the fact that he still squirmed around slightly, not willing to accept the fact that there was no escape; that there was absolutely nowhere he could go.   
“All of it.”

John was paralyzed. For a moment, his legs were like heavy cinderblocks, anchoring him to the ground, when just a few seconds ago, they had felt as light as they would ever get. Even his arm which was yet unbroken seemed to be useless. It was as though Will’s words were crushing him down, making sure he could not stand or defend himself against the onslaught.

And while Jonathan himself was completely in the nude, exposed and humiliated before the eyes of another man, especially one who wanted to hurt him and make sure that he felt that pain, William was almost completely clothed, although he had somehow managed to unzip his own pants, exposing the one and only area that he needed to. John felt so helpless as he saw the position in which he lay, forced onto the ground, and how the other hovered over him so powerfully. He was taken out of all of his clothing in order to humiliate him even more, John knew that much, and he hated it. He absolutely hated thinking about it. It nauseated him to his absolute core.

But he was brought back from his thoughts to the cold, awful, reality of things when something rubbed up against him. Fucking disgusting. He didn’t want this. No way in fucking Hell did he want it. He wasn’t some filthy faggot like Will turned out to be. All he wanted to do was to empty the contents of his stomach onto the floor beside him.

A harsh groan of pain as that thing went inside of him, and John could already feel his belly churning around, threatening to spill over at any given moment.

It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. It was so fucking painful that Jonathan absolutely could not stand it no matter how hard he tried. There wasn’t even anything he could do about it. With every one of those sick, rough, painful, nauseating thrusts, William continued to put all of his weight and strength down onto John, keeping him completely immobile in his moment of complete humiliation.

Why? Why was Will doing something so disgusting and wrong? He had all but forgotten their conversation prior to Will’s violent fit of rage, and he wanted so desperately to be able to turn back in time and change what it was he had said that was so awful, as though that would never have awoken this terrible, animalistic side of his old friend.

Now, Will was no longer his friend. William was nothing more than a disgusting pig. Or was that John? 

Will had always been so kind and sweet to him. John knew that it was his fault. This was the first time he had seen Will so angry, and it was only after one of his comments. It only made sense. Not listening to the messages Will was sending would have been stupid and childish.

And just the thought of that; the thought of being the one to provoke such a violent, awful act upon himself from the one who used to be his best friend, shattering their friendship with one another and ruining any chances they have of being able to talk to each other normally ever again after this; it was enough to make John’s eyes begin to tear up. It was absolutely pathetic, and he hated himself for it.

Because of what he had said, John was emasculated. His own right to be a man was taken; ripped right away from him.

“What’s wrong, you stupid whore?”

John slowly opened his eyes to look up at the other, but he refused to make any eye contact whatsoever. Somehow, he could still tell that his expression was angry, frustrated and filled with hatred. Hatred that he had caused.

“Is it because of this? It must be painful.” A finger on his—

He shuddered from humiliation and embarrassment. Jonathan hadn’t even noticed that he was hard. The pain of being penetrated and made into less than a man distracted him from it too much, and he struggled to hold in a pained sob. No wonder Will did this to him. John must have brought it upon himself.

He tried his hardest to hold himself back as much as he could as he could feel more. But he couldn’t concentrate. He was trying so hard to resist the pain, he was trying so hard to fight back the huge wall of tears, he was trying so hard to continue his worthless struggle.

That hand felt so disgusting, so slimy, so greasy, so filthy, and just fucking gross, but John was too panicked and afraid and distressed to think too much about anything at the moment. His mind was still racing absolutely everywhere, and he didn’t know what to do. It was so frustrating. It was so frustrating. He just wanted to let go of everything and cry until he couldn’t cry anymore.

But, even despite all of that, he could still feel all of it, and he couldn’t help but find release in another area of his body. 

But no, it wasn’t a true release. Not for the rest of him. Every last little iota of dignity was fucking gone. He was nothing. What kind of a fucking freak was he? He deserved to die. He deserved to just lie down and fucking die right then and there.

He had failed William.

He had failed Emma.

But he had also failed himself. He had failed himself in the worst way possible.

The rainstorm carried on throughout the entire night, relentlessly cascading down onto the world, along with horrifyingly loud thunder, causing children to run with tears fresh in their eyes to their parents, begging and pleading for love and care through the night, all the way up until morning.

But Jonathan spent the night by himself, with no one to cry and plead to.


End file.
